


Power Play

by JadeyKins



Series: Devil's Dance [2]
Category: Supernatural, Superwood - Fandom, Torchwood
Genre: Knight of Hell Dean, tw: murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1694303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeyKins/pseuds/JadeyKins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knight of Hell Dean starts to learn about his new powers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Power Play

Dean jogged down to the end of the alley and glanced around the corner. He huffed as his target darted around yet another freaking corner and so he gave chase again. These alleyways were twisted back and forth. The concrete was uneven and irregular. He’d almost tripped three times now. How the woman in heels managed to stay upright flat out confused him.

The mark on his arm burned. It always had a dull present throb anymore, but right now it scalded his thoughts. Pushed him. Demanded. The mark and the blade wanted flesh. Wanted death.

Dean let out a long breath and decided he’d played long enough with this prey.

He could have caught her three minutes ago, when this whole thing had started, but he didn’t want to spoil the fun. By now, her heart beat out loud and frantic that the whole street would’ve been able to hear it if they had some of Dean’s new senses. Her fear smelled like burnt flour, thick and pungent.

She cried out when she saw him so close. His footfall was silent compared to the clatter of her heels. She put one more burst of speed into her run, but he was faster. He grabbed her hair and wrenched her backwards. The blade went up through her back, piercing and killing her in one blow. The weight of her on the blade felt like coming home after a long trip for the briefest second. Ripping it out of her repeated the sensation. She fell to the ground with a solid thud at his feet.

He panted. Blood pounded away through his body. 

Except, no, it didn’t.

Dean didn’t have to pant. His lungs had no control over his stamina. Adrenaline didn’t pump through his body anymore. Crowley had told him this a thousand times already, but Dean had always focused on those expected physical reactions.

His mind forced those physical reactions because it wanted to express his new power to him. He focused on the emotional sensations. Joy. Sated joy. Without the physical symptoms his mind had caused, Dean could reveal in the pure joy.

The hairs on the back of his neck tingled—wait, no. That was his mind telling him something came close. The energy of something played at his back. His power, the demonic power and what his soul had become, spiked through him. If he could concentrate, he could feel the other’s power enough to know the source, but the joy and elation still clouded his mind’s ability to work like that.

Besides, he knew who this should be. And if it wasn’t? Well, he still had the First Blade in his hand.

“I feel you back there,” Dean called out. “Stop lurking.”

Ianto walked calmly and quietly forward. He let his eyes shine black as he approached the Knight of Hell.

Dean finally turned towards him. “Now will you tell me where we are?” he asked.

Ianto bent down and took the woman’s purse. He removed jewelry next. “No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because unless a ward is in effect, a demon always knows,” Ianto replied. He dumped the jewelry into the purse and stood up. “You should sense it.”

“Don’t go all Master Yoda on me,” Dean complained. “Just freaking tell me where we are.”

“Make me,” Ianto challenged.

So Dean hit him as hard as he could. Ianto reeled back from the blow, and went to a knee, but he stood. Despite blood dripping from his lip, Ianto showed no sign of pain. Not even a hint of displeasure across his features. Dean tried to sense for fear or anguish or any of those emotions he could pick up on with his new powers, but Ianto only radiated calm. Complete and utter calm. 

Dean reached over and cupped the back of Ianto’s head. His fingers scratched into Ianto’s short dark hair. Ianto’s calm didn’t change even slightly. “You’re not scared of me.”

“I’m not.”

“I could kill you,” Dean said. He laid the First Blade against Ianto’s throat.

“You won’t.”

“Oh?”

Ianto pushed Dean’s arms away easily. Dean hadn’t put any strength behind the hold—all he wanted was to intimidate Ianto and that wasn’t working yet either. “You’d be bored without me,” he replied.

“I’m sure Crowley could dig me up a new playmate.”

“True, but they’d be dull compared to me.”

“Little full of yourself, aren’t you?” Dean said.

A small smirk crossed Ianto’s lips. He offered his free hand out to Dean. “We should go.”

Dean took Ianto’s hand. 

And nothing happened.

“Well, get with the moving,” Dean said.

“You should be able to teleport us.”

“I don’t know where we are,” Dean repeated.

“Where we are doesn’t matter as much as where you want us to be. Picture us in the hotel. Draw in every detail of the room, every sensation, and then take us there.”

Dean closed his eyes and focused. He saw them standing in the hotel room easy enough. He threw in every detail he could remember, which was a startling amount now that his mind could fully concentrate. No extra baggage weighing at the back of his mind was more freeing to his thought-process than he’d ever believed possible.

After a couple seconds, he opened his eyes.

They still stood in the alley.

“Someone will discover her body soon,” Ianto warned.

“I’m trying!” Dean hissed.

“Do or do not. There is no try.”

“You’re a freaking riot.” Dean huffed and closed his eyes again. He focused on the mental image. Put all the details into the room, even temperature and the slight staleness of the air. The gleam of the wood furniture, the way light sank into the carpet. The color of the walls and the place or two where the paint wasn’t perfectly even. The fact that he’d left the bed a disaster. Glasses half-full. Towel on the floor. 

They were standing at the foot of the bed. Power kicked through him. His power, his rage, his anger, his competence, and he shoved the power into the mental image. Believed that the image was reality.

“Well done,” Ianto said.

Dean opened his eyes. They stood right where he had placed them in his mind. Ianto was already letting go of his hand and moving into the suite’s living room.

“I did that?” Dean said.

“Yes.”

Joy pulsed through him again. “All on my own.”

“Yes.”

“And I can do that like, anywhere. Like the Empire State. I could just zap myself there if I wanted.”

Ianto nodded.

“Holy crap, that’s awesome.”

Ianto dumped the purse into the trashcan and pulled a small bottle of lighter fluid from his coat pocket. He doused the purse and then lit it on fire.

Meanwhile, Dean grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the side table and two clean glasses. He poured drinks for them. “Here.”

Ianto took the drink from him while he watched the purse burn. “We won’t become intoxicated.”

“I’m celebrating,” Dean replied.

Years of reading so many of Cas’s emotions and thoughts from facial expressions enabled Dean to read Ianto’s ‘and what would we be celebrating’ eye squint.

“I did something cool,” Dean said. He clinked their glasses together. “And Crowley did something pretty great bringing you here. I think we could be at the start of a beautiful friendship.”

Ianto let out a soft “hmph” and a smile. He didn’t say anything, but waves of warm happy content emotions pulsed against Dean’s own power. 

This was gonna be awesome.


End file.
